


Love Means Nothing to a Tennis Player

by thomasthomas



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tennis, it'll probably get more mature in the later chapters, maybe a little tiny tiny bit of angst later, the only experience i have in tennis is wii tennis, the rating WILL go up so dont worry yall, thomas tries to act cool, yeah this is a fuckin tennis rivalry au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-11-29 19:21:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11447400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thomasthomas/pseuds/thomasthomas
Summary: One month had been more than enough time for Alexander to have a lasting impression on Thomas Jefferson. It was quite simple; he was a pompous jerk from Virginia that had moved to New York at the beginning of this school year.Alexander's tennis season wouldn't have been so bad, had their new member not been such a smug asshole.However, sometimes even someone as grounded as Alexander can't resist a southern man's charms.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was trying to come up with prompts and i had an epiphany. TENNIS AU!! it seemed like a good idea at the time. flashbacks are in italics. enjoy
> 
> edit 7/9/17: i posted this yesterday but i just changed the title, its a pun now haha. if u dont get it, in a tennis match 0 points is called "love"
> 
> chapter one, aka i accidentally wrote a detailed description of alex showering

There was  _nothing_ romantic about waking up early.

Alexander shielded his eyes as the morning sun began to peek up from the horizon. He estimated the time to be about 6:30, showing up nearly two hours early for school. His first priority was to get to the workout room before anyone else could hog the treadmill. 

Luckily, Alexander’s little house was only a 15-minute walk from the school. He wasn’t particularly fond of walking every morning, but it was quite convenient. He wasn’t able to scrape up enough money for a car, anyway. His only source of income was the occasional shift at the coffee shop, and sometimes even stealing a $10 bill or two from his father.

With his school placed strategically on the very outskirts of New York City, Alexander felt blessed that he didn’t have to deal with busy streets all the time. His morning commute was normally a quiet and peaceful stroll, even if it meant having to walk through the wealthier part of the neighborhood.

He stared down at the pavement as he walked. He walked purposefully, enjoying the feeling over the old cement under his shoes. Carefully, he made his way down the worn-out sidewalk but silently cursed himself as he tripped over a loose piece of pavement. A strangled _“oof!”_ escaped his lips as he fell onto all fours.

“Someone really oughta fix up these sidewalks, huh?” Alexander jumped back to his feet as he heard someone speaking behind him. He had been too busy not-so-carefully watching the sidewalks to notice someone had exited their house. And with his luck, he knew exactly who it was. The light southern drawl was unmistakable.

“Thomas.” Alexander swiveled around and gave a curt nod towards his spectator. He was familiar with Thomas Jefferson only because he played for Capitol Hill’s tennis team. Yes, tennis.

Tennis, Alexander bargained, was his second favorite pastime. Above all, writing and journalism and hobbies of the sorts came in first. He despised the sport at first, but it slowly made its way up the ranks as he grew older.

It’s actually kind of a funny story. At Capitol Hill High School, it’s required to take a sport as an extracurricular for one year in order to graduate. So, when Alexander was only a freshman, his stepfather had taken matters into his own hands and enrolled in stepson in tennis. Alexander vaguely remembers the conversation.

_“Tennis?!” Alexander bounced out of his chair. “Are you serious, George?”_

_“You know,” George mused. “You can call me dad if you want.”_

_Alexander crossed his arms. “You didn’t even ask me if I wanted to join! And tennis, really? Why not something else? Why not… ” He thought of any potential sports he could be interested in joining but found himself with no answers. He didn’t want to partake in any kind of sport._

_“Listen, Alex,” George began speaking again. “It’s better to do it early on, so you can get it over with. And considering the other options for sports, tennis seemed like your best bet.”_

_Alexander tried to summon a reasonable argument, but, once again, was found speechless._

_“Exactly.” George carried a slightly smug look on his face. “You never know, you could enjoy it.”_

_“Yeah, right. Tennis.” Alexander refused to believe he could enjoy something as trivial as tennis._

And the rest is history. Here he is, a senior in high school, and one of the only members on the Capitol Tennis team to stay for all four years. Not to mention he was also the captain. Alexander chuckled to himself as he remembered how naive he had been.

“What’re you laughing at?” Thomas’s snobbish voice had brought him back to reality. He sported a cocked eyebrow as he leaned against his expensive car, which was parked on his expensive driveway, in front of his expensive house. Ah, the rich part of town.

“Nothing.” Alexander straightened. “Have a nice day.”

He turned around and continued on to the school. He hadn’t actually meant that last thing he had said to Thomas. It's not very polite to wish someone a terrible day, but when it came to Thomas, Alexander frankly didn't care.

Tennis season began in March, and Alexander’s senior year approached its end as April rolled around. Seemingly enough, one month had been more than enough time for Alexander to have a lasting impression on Thomas Jefferson. It was quite simple; he was a pompous jerk from Virginia that had moved to New York at the beginning of this school year. Thomas was enrolled in a private school that was down the road a bit, in the opposite direction of Capitol Hill. However, this prestigious private school wasn’t quite prestigious enough to have a tennis team, so Thomas apparently had no choice but to play for Capitol Hill.

Alexander had heard plenty of stories about “Back in Virginia,” and “I was their star player,” from Thomas. Thomas told these stories to anyone who would listen, even though they all had heard them at least a thousand times. Thomas had just ignored the groans he elicited from people when he began his stories. Either that, or he simply didn't notice them.

Alexander had no personal reason to hate him, yet he did. He despised that man. He was cocky, arrogant, rude, and to top it all off, a know-it-all.

As Alexander walked briskly away from Thomas’s large house, he heard the other man huff and he could practically hear his eyes rolling. “See you tonight,” he deadpanned.

Not only was Thomas on the same tennis team, but their tennis practice was every single day during the season. Alexander ignored him and quickened his pace. At this rate, he wasn’t going to make it to the treadmill in time.

Alexander sighed as he left the confines of the wealthy neighborhood. It was unfortunately placed, as it was closer to the slightly ratty public school than it was to the not-so-prestigious private school.

His pace picked up into a jog as the high school came into his vision. He wouldn’t stand another day of Aaron Burr, another tennis team member, hogging the treadmill. However, if he was too late to the treadmill, at least he would have gotten a little jogging.

Much to his dismay, Aaron had gotten to the treadmill before him. Things were looking grim, and Alexander was afraid that he would have to settle with the elliptical today.

He glared at Aaron as he walked across the exercise room, his gaze never leaving Aaron’s face. He kept walking until he ran into something hard. Today was really not his day. He grunted and looked at his perpetrator, ready to square up.

However, he found himself face to face with the elliptical. He placed a hand on the machine's cool metal to steady himself, his eyes wandering over the bits and buttons of the contraption. How he despised the elliptical. It was nothing more than glorified bike riding.

Aaron, wiping the sweat from his brow, chuckled as he watched Alexander stumble over the exercise equipment.

“Got a fight to pick with the elliptical?” He teased. The tone of his voice was cheerful, and a smirk crept onto his face to seal the look. Aaron cocked an eyebrow, waiting for Alex to respond with something biting or sarcastic.

“Shut up,” Alexander responded rather weakly. “Let me have the damn treadmill for once.”

“I would, friend, but I have to prepare for tonight’s game,” Burr explained. Alexander hadn’t even realized there was a game tonight. He sighed. Just another night of Thomas Jefferson stealing the spotlight from him. He didn't realize how much he loved being the center of attention until Thomas came into the picture. 

He couldn’t lie, though. Thomas was a formidable player. Alexander might have admitted this to himself if he didn’t hold a burning grudge against him.

“What? We have a game?” Alexander voiced his thoughts.

“Wow,” Burr chuckled. “Our very own captain didn’t know we have a game tonight? Shame on you, Alexander.” Alexander knew Aaron meant no harm by his statement.

“Oh, shut up. Who are we playing?” Alexander hoped it wasn’t Saint Mary’s Academy. Their team members were always assholes.

“Big Oak,” Aaron said plainly.

Alex breathed a sigh of relief. He would only have to deal with one asshole tonight.

“Anyway,” Aaron continued. “I’m actually done with the treadmill now, so go nuts.” He stepped off of the machine and reached for a towel that was folded neatly on a bench near him. “Just don’t overwork yourself this time,” Aaron smirked.

Alex grimaced at the memory. Just a couple weeks ago, Aaron had walked in on Alexander’s lifeless body passed out on top of the treadmill belt. Aaron tried desperately to shake Alexander awake, but he was out cold. It was only when Alexander had heard Aaron utter the numbers “911” that his eyes had snapped open.

_“Wait!” Alexander had cried out. Aaron’s finger hovered over the call button. “I’m fine, I’m fine!” He scrambled into a sitting position, only to fall right back into Aaron’s arms._

_“Jesus Christ, Alex, what happened here?” Aaron looked completely befuddled._

_“I’m… not quite sure.”_

Aaron barked out a laugh as he saw Alex’s calm expression turn into one of pain. “Please,” Alex huffed and held out a hand as if to say _stop_. “That won’t happen again.”

“I believe you. See you later, Alex.” Aaron strolled away and disappeared into the locker room without another word. Vaguely, he heard a shower turn on.

Alexander shook his head and pulled his phone and earbuds out of his backpack. Finally, he could be at peace with his treadmill.

“It’s just you and me today,” he muttered quietly whilst stepping onto the treadmill. He shoved his earbuds into his ears and began his workout playlist, drowning out the ambient sounds of the school.

The sounds of his heavy footfalls filled up the uninhabited exercise room. Alexander tried to maintain focus on his breathing but was unable to keep his mind from wandering. Did he remember to unplug the toaster this morning? A sweat unrelated to exercise formed on his brow as he recalled all the potential items he could have left on this morning. Did he leave his bedroom fan on? The iron, maybe? No, no, Alexander doesn’t even know if he owns an iron.

He let himself run until he felt himself waver from exhaustion. He slowed his pace on the treadmill down to five miles an hour, trying to catch a bit of a break. The current time was 7:26, according to his phone. Classes began at 8:00, but he needed to shower and wanted a little bit of downtime before school started. He ran a hand through his sweat-slicked hair, then he switched off the treadmill and allowed himself to stand for a couple minutes to catch his breath.

Once he had fully regained his breath, Alex stepped down from the treadmill and shoved his phone and earbuds back into his backpack. From there, he left the exercise room and slithered into the locker room, excitedly imagining the hot water of a shower sliding down his skin.

Alexander felt truly blessed that his school’s locker room came equipped with curtained shower stalls. He grimaced, recalling horror stories he had heard about uncurtained school showers. What a nightmare. 

He quickly found his locker within the locker room, number 46, and shoved his backpack inside the best he could given the small capacity of the locker. From the top shelf, he grabbed a bottle of soap. He felt slightly foolish carrying around soap during school, but it was a necessity when you worked out in the morning. No one wanted to be _that guy_ , the one who walked around the school smelling like, well, a locker room.

He rested his soap on the rubber bench outside of his shower stall. After grabbing a towel from his locker, he draped it over the curtain rod and slammed the curtain shut. He stripped out of all his clothes, which he placed blindly on the bench. He heard his bottle of soap clatter onto the floor.

He took the shower faucet in hand and turned it to nearly its highest setting, ready to let the warmth of the shower watch over him. He let out a yelp as cold water splashed out of the showerhead.

“Fuck!” He exclaimed, and he prayed that no one else had walked into the locker room. That would have been quite embarrassing.

He felt himself relax as the icy water soon transformed into a hot, calming temperature. He peeled back the curtain slightly and knelt down so he could retrieve his fallen soap, which went without any complications.

Alex stood with his back facing the water, not wanting to get water in his eyes. He grasped the soap bottle and squirted a generous amount into his left hand, and then placed the bottle gently onto the tiled floor.

He slathered some of the soap onto his chest, and let himself sigh with relaxation as he worked it into his skin. He worked the lather over his stomach, watching as the soap glided down over his legs.

After being on the tennis team for so long, Alexander was rather fit. His legs were quite toned, with his arms coming in second. His stomach, however… it could use a little work. It was nothing Alexander was worried about, really.

He reached for the bottle on the floor and squirted more soap into his hands, just a small amount. He scrubbed thoroughly under his arms and tried the best he could to clean between his shoulder blades. He turned around and let his torso be rinsed, wincing as the hot water collided with his face. He grunted and stepped back a little, allowing the water to rinse only over his body.

After rinsing off all the soap from his skin, he turned the faucet to a slightly colder temperature so he could rinse his face. Already, he missed the soothing warmth of the hot water. His fingers trailed through his hair, tugging roughly at the tangles strewn throughout. 

Water cascaded over his face and caught in his eyes. Alex cursed, silently, this time, as he rubbed his hand roughly over his eyes. He shook his head like a wet dog, the sounds of water splattering the walls echoing throughout the stall. Once he was sure he was clean enough, he blindly reached for the faucet, and shut off the shower when he found it. He pulled the towel down from its perch on the curtain rod and wiped off his face. When his face was dry and his eyes were no longer screaming, he wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out of the stall.

The last time Alexander had worked out, he had forgotten to bring extra clothes. Unable to force himself to wear his sweaty workout clothes, he had to beg his friend Gilbert, or Laf, as he liked to call him, to let him borrow some clothes. Laf had begrudgingly given up some of his clothes to his desperate friend.

Luckily, Alexander remembered to bring extra clothes this time. He shuffled over to his locker, leaving wet footprints over the floor. He grimaced, but it was too late now. He should have brought some sandals so he didn’t have to step on the disgusting locker room floor.

He was relieved to see that no one else was in the locker room. Even with the curtains, the idea of showering with someone else in the room made him slightly uncomfortable. He toweled himself off and slipped on the fresh clothes that he had kept in his backpack.

Wet hair was one of Alexander’s biggest pet peeves. Sadly, with his hair length, it was unavoidable. He shuddered as his shoulder-length hair plastered itself to the back of his neck. He rang it out the best out could, and gave it a rough scrubbing with his towel for good measure. It wasn’t perfect, but at least now it was manageable.

A quick glance at his phone showed that the time was now 7:39. He smiled to himself, happy with his perfect timing. By 7:45 he was sitting at one of the high tables in the commons of the school, reviewing his creative writing homework.

After a few minutes, and a shrill voice rang through the air. “Hey, look who it is!” Alexander’s head snapped up as he heard one of his closest friend’s voices.

“Peggy,” he conferred. A genuine smiled formed on his face as his friend approached him.

“Long time no see, Alex. Truly.” Alex chuckled at Peggy’s statement, which was completely false considering they had seen each other only yesterday. “Anything new going on in the world?”

“Well, I found out this morning that there’s a tennis match tonight.” Alexander shook his head wistfully. “Another night of dealing with the wonderful Thomas Jefferson.”

“Oh?” Peggy seemed amused. She had only known who Thomas was from Alex’s occasional rants about the tennis team. “You don’t like him? What did he do?” Peggy knew little about Alex’s hatred for the man.

“He–” Alex mulled over his memories of Thomas, trying to grasp an excuse for his hatred. “He… he…" he hesitated. "Nothing. He’s just an annoying, arrogant–”

“Well,” Peggy cut off Alexander’s string of insults and glanced at her watch. “I’ll leave you to it. See you around, Alex.”

Alexander’s eyes followed Peggy until she disappeared around the corner. He sighed and checked his phone. 7:54 shone in bright white text. 

“Might as well go,” Alex muttered to himself quietly. He gathered the supplies he had laid over the table and slid everything neatly back into his backpack. Creative writing was Alexander’s first-period class, a class that sounds fun in theory, but is hell in reality. At the beginning of the year, as Alex flipped through the registration pamphlet, he thought creative writing could benefit him. Now, as the school year reaches an end, he realizes he has accomplished next to nothing in that damned class. All the assignments they’re given are trivial and childish, and he regrets signing up for it now. It was a little too late to do anything about it now, though.

He swam through a sea of familiar faces as he walking through the long hallways of the school. Once he reached his classroom, he plopped into his desk and prepared for another hellish day of writing. A couple minutes later, his teacher strolled into the room and began class. For the first couple weeks of this class, he had paid attention in hopes that it would somehow get more interesting. It never did. Paying attention seemed trivial now, and Alexander was left to tend his thoughts.

The thought of tennis practice at the end of the day usually kept him motivated through the class, but knowing he would have to deal with Thomas left a feeling of dread in his stomach. 

He stared down at his empty page as the sound of other students’ pencils on paper filled the room.

 

-

 

“The man of the hour!”

Alex turned his head towards Aaron’s voice, which greeted him as he walked onto one of the school’s tennis courts. He discerned the voice’s owner kneeling down on the edge of the court, tying his shoes.

“Aaron.” Alexander greeted him in return. “Ready for the game tonight?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Aaron teased. Alexander rolled his eyes, remembering that morning’s incident.

The tennis court was one of Alexander’s favorite places to be. It was almost sacred to him, he even came on his own time occasionally to relieve stress. He gripped his Babolat tennis racket in his right hand and ran his fingers over the ridges of its net. He let his feet take over, leading him to the tub of tennis balls that sat on the edge of the court.

Sadly, Alexander was ripped out of his tennis racket-induced trance when a foot shot out and tripped him.

His arms launched out and his expensive racket flew out of his hands as he desperately tried to regain his balance. His attempts were futile as he found himself face first with the abrasive material of the tennis court.

His face, which was still buried into the ground, reddened as he heard a chorus of chuckles. Furiously, he lifted himself onto his knees and looked up to face who had tripped him.

“Thomas,” Alexander snarled. “What the hell?” Thomas was wearing a smirk that made Alexander’s fists shake with anger. He was never good at keeping his emotions in check.

“You really oughta watch where you’re going, Alex.” Thomas feigned a sweet smile and cocked his hip. “It was an accident, sugar, I _swear_.” A giggle rose in his throat as he held out his hand, beckoning Alexander to allow himself to be helped up.

Alexander ignored Thomas’s mocking hand and rose to his feet. Even when standing, Thomas had quite a few inches on Alex. Seven, to be exact. Alexander felt his face redden again as he stared up at his perpetrator.

He opened his mouth to fire back at Thomas, but quickly caught himself. Calm down, he thought to himself. You’re better than this.

“So,” Thomas continued talking, despite Alexander’s obvious discomfort. “One on one round, me and you?”

“Why are you asking me?” Alex practically growled at Thomas, not breaking eye contact. Alexander was still furious about being humiliated in front of his tennis team.

“Oh, calm down.” Thomas’s accent seemed even more pronounced than it had that morning. He leaned in slightly closer to Alex, who drew back slightly. “I’m not going to bite,” he scoffed. “Also, don’t think this means I like you. Between you and me, you’re pretty much the only person on this team who could beat me. I swear these other fools don’t even know what they’re doing.” He gestured with his racket towards Aaron and another team member, who were missing their shots left and right. “My point exactly. So, what do you say?”

Normally, Alexander would say no, but he wasn’t going to pass up a chance to kick Thomas’s ass.

“Fine,” Alex agreed reluctantly. “You’re on. Don’t make me regret this.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that, Alexander.” Thomas delivered a wink and walked down towards an empty court, motioning for Alexander to follow.

Alex grumbled to himself as he picked up his forgotten racket from the ground, and followed after Thomas.  

On the nearest vacant court, Thomas stood with a hand on his hip, the other hand tossing a ball up and down. He smirked as Alex took up his spot on the opposite side of the court, and poised himself.

“Ready?” Thomas assumed position to serve.

Alexander gave only a small nod in return.

Thomas tossed the ball into the air and smacked it with the force of a god. Alexander gasped as it flew right past his face.

“Fifteen, love.” Thomas grinned cockily and Alexander ran a hand down his face.

He ran back and retrieved the ball, taking no time to rest as he threw the ball into the air and smacked it right back at Thomas.

“Ow!” Thomas kneeled onto the ground, clutching his shin. He shot what was hopefully a menacing glare at Alexander. 

 _Bingo_ , Alex thought. He let a quiet laugh escape him.

“Fifteen, fifteen.” Crossing his arms smugly, he awaited Thomas’s next move.

“You are going down, Alexander.” Thomas’s face looked sarcastic, yet his tone was ice cold. Thomas quickly served the ball again, but Alex’s reflexes were fast enough to shoot it right back at him.

Thomas, it appeared, also had extremely fast reflexes. His racket flew out and shot the ball straight back at Alex. Which, instead of catching with his racket, he caught with his stomach.

Alexander groaned and dropped his racket, both hands flying to cover his stomach. In his mind, Alex compared this endeavor to getting a gunshot wound in the gut. Surely, this was more painful. Across the court, he saw Thomas covering up his mouth with his free hand. A light blush spread over Alex's face as he struggled to compose himself.

“Wow, Alex." Thomas cackled.  "And I thought you were good at this.” The sound of Thomas mocking him made his stomach churn, but he offered no response. He gripped his fallen tennis racket with white knuckles and walked to where the ball was sitting.

Gently, he tossed the ball into the air. And then, with all the strength he could muster, he slammed it towards Thomas with his racket. He saw a hint of fear flash in Thomas’s eyes, which brightened his spirit a little.

However, the flame of joy that had ignited in him quickly burned out. Thomas sent the ball back with even more force, and Alex watched with wide eyes as it flew straight past his thighs. In his frenzied attempt to strike the ball, he tripped over his own foot and dropped like a stone.

This time, Thomas didn’t even attempt to hold himself back. His laughter filled up the whole court. The sound made Alex’s blood boil.

 _Private school asshole,_  Alex thought to himself. He dug his fingers into his racket.

Alex took a couple deep breaths and summoned some words of encouragement for himself. He knew he could do this. He wasn’t the captain of the team for no reason. He quickly regained his composure, more sure of himself this time.

Alexander sent the ball towards Thomas, who hit it back with ease. This time, though, Alexander was prepared and sent the ball straight back. Now, he was getting into the swing of it.

At some point, they stopped keeping score. The ball shot back and forth between them endlessly, until both of them were panting.

It wasn’t until the ball flew passed Alexander’s head a few more times that they stopped their silly game. Exhausted, he slumped onto the ground. He let out a groan as he rested himself onto his elbows. 

“Did I wear you out, Alexander?” Alex glances up to see Thomas crudely sticking out his tongue. His tone was mocking, but Alexander could see that he was in no better condition. Thomas was bent over, hands resting on his knees as he attempted to catch his breath. Both of their clothes were soaked with sweat.

“You’re one to talk,” Alex shot back weakly. He slowly pushed himself back onto his feet and dusted himself off, then began to walk away from the court. All he wanted at this point was a cool shower. 

“See you tonight, Alexander.” He turned around one last time to face Thomas, who had regained his composure.

“For someone who doesn’t like me, you sure do say my name a lot!” Alex didn’t allow a response as he continued his trek towards the school.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear that he saw Thomas’s face redden.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is my first fic. it may have seemed a little unsatisfying today but I promise things will get more interesting soon. expect an update within the next week!
> 
> reviews are very appreciated thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teasing Alexander was one of Thomas’s favorite things to do. He loved seeing the man flustered, and all because of him.
> 
> It was a shame that Alex didn’t know the effect he had on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was during writing this chapter that I realized I have no idea how a tennis match works. if you play tennis I am so sorry to have slandered your sport like this, everything I wrote about it in here is from Wii sports and the internet
> 
> a bit of this is just straight up tennis so sorry if u like despise tennis. why are you even reading this if you hate tennis? 
> 
> anyways I finished this way earlier than expected so here you go, enjoy!

Alexander eyed the students of Big Oak suspiciously as they filed off of their school bus. What appeared to be about 20 kids poured out of the vehicle, and Alex observed them carefully as they gathered into a lopsided circle around their coach.

He shook his head nonchalantly. Their tennis coach, Mr. Lee, was living it up in Mexico right now, leaving the fate of the team in Alexander’s very hands. Of course, Alexander didn’t mind. He was sure the only experience Mr. Lee had in tennis was playing Wii Sports. No one made an attempt to replace him, though. That being said, he figured there was no one to replace him with.

After his frenzied match with Thomas, Alexander had fled to the locker room to take a cold shower. He let himself stand there for a while, drowned in his thoughts. When he returned, Thomas was nowhere in sight. Alexander, of course, was relieved to see that he was gone. Now, Alex leaned on the sharp, silver wired fence that enclosed all the tennis courts, and monitored his team. His eyes roamed over his players, and he was happy to see that everyone was focused on practicing.

Alex’s slender fingers fiddled absentmindedly with his white uniform as his thoughts overtook him. He was sure tonight would be an easy win. He knew Big Oak didn’t have an awful team, but Capitol Hill’s team– _his_ team –happened to be pretty skilled. They had played four games so far this season, and they had only lost one. _And it’s all thanks to their humble, talented captain._ Alexander smirked as he inwardly praised himself.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Aaron’s curious voice knocked him out of his trance.

“Just thinking about tonight’s game,” Alexander said coolly.

“Ah,” Aaron nodded. Alex eyed his fingers as he tapped them inattentively on his racket. “I saw you practicing with Jefferson today.” Alexander rolled his eyes as a self-satisfied look took over Aaron’s face.

“Please,” Alex droned. It hadn’t even occurred to him that someone might have been watching. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t want to make any assumptions, but…” Aaron snickered. “It looked like you were getting your ass handed to you.” Alexander’s smirk was quickly replaced with a scowl as he reviewed his match with Thomas. His chest burned with loathing as he thought about him. Alex wasn’t even aware that you could hate someone _that much._

“Frankly, Aaron,” Alex shot the other man a scornful look and eyed him up and down. “You weren’t doing much better. I saw you practicing against Angelica today.”

Aaron swore he saw his life flash before his eyes. Angelica Schuyler was one of their newer team members, as she joined last school year. However, that didn’t stop her from quickly becoming one of the most feared members. She was ferocious . Not only was she a talented player, she was also Peggy’s sister and one of Alexander’s closest friends.

“I–” Aaron began to defend himself but Alexander quickly cut him off.

“Save it,” he said, but his tone light and joking.

The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a few seconds, observing the opposing team as they stepped onto the farthest tennis courts. Alexander judged their skills from afar as the white-clad figures practiced against each other. Aaron was the one to finally break the silence.

“Speak of the devil.” Aaron directed his attention towards Thomas, who walked onto the court with his phone in hand.

Alexander hoped with every fiber of his being that Thomas wouldn’t walk towards him, and it seemed his prayers were answered. Thomas walked straight past the two boys, seemingly too distracted by his phone. Alex’s eyes followed him as he placed his phone in his bag on the bleachers and returned to the court. Thomas bounced a tennis ball on the ground a couple of times, and Alexander soon zoned out, his eyes still fixed on Thomas. He was only ripped out of his hypnotic state when Thomas’s voice pulled him out of it.

Thomas had definitely felt Alexander’s eyes boring into his skin. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer!” he shouted, satisfied with himself when he saw Alexander’s face burn up. Alex quickly tore his eyes away.

Teasing Alexander was one of Thomas’s favorite things to do. He loved seeing the man flustered, and all because of him.

It was a shame that Alex didn’t know the effect he had on him.

Everything Alexander said to Thomas flustered him, but he’d never show it. Having a crush on someone who hated you was more than a little difficult. Ask Thomas, and he’d deny it. Ask _anyone_ , and they’d say it was complete blasphemy. Thomas knew Alexander would never like him back, so he made no attempt to pursue him. He knew he’d never have a chance with him, so Thomas took to making Alexander flustered in other ways.

A man could dream, though.

Alexander grumbled to himself and walked away from Aaron, who was chuckling lightheartedly. He needed to go release some anger on some tennis balls.

He watched as familiar faces filled up the bleachers. He spotted Peggy and Eliza among the small crowd, undoubtedly coming to watch their sister. A smile sprang onto his face when he saw John and Herc make their way into the bleachers, seating themselves beside the Schuyler sisters. There was never a big audience for a tennis match. The people who would show up were simply friends and family of the team members, for the most part. Generally, the majority of the school was more interested in football and volleyball. Alexander took what he could get, though.

As the opposing team grouped up, he figured it was about time for the game to start. He strung his hair up into a ponytail and took a couple deep breaths to place himself into the right mindset.

Within a couple of minutes, both teams had gathered onto the court. Big Oak’s coach stood in the midst of all the players, talking not quite loud enough for Alexander to hear. A face emerged from the crowd, and Alexander assumed them to be their team’s captain. They kept walking until they reached the net in the center of the court, and Alexander mirrored their movements. Their eyes locked in what seemed to be an endless staring contest.

“Flip a coin?” Alexander suggested. Whoever flipped heads would earn the wonderful privilege of serving first. He stared down the other team’s captain blandly, a nameless face he would most likely forget after his head hit the pillow.

Big Oak’s captain simply nodded and pulled a coin from their pocket.

 _Wow,_ Alexander thought to himself. _Someone’s prepared._

“You can do the honors. It’s your school,” Big Oak’s captain said briefly. They flipped the coin towards Alexander, who dropped it clumsily. His team chuckled behind him, and Alex’s face burned in embarrassment. He paid them no mind as he scooped up the coin from the ground.

Alexander ran his fingers over the ridges of the quarter for a fleeting moment and then flipped the coin. His eyes remained on it as it flew into the air, and he quickly caught it in his palm and flipped it onto his left hand. Heads. Alex grinned. He felt gracious, considering his luck had not been the best today.

The opposing team’s captain turned around and began pointing orders. Two more nameless faces bounded onto the court, and they situated themselves respectively on the front and rear ends of the court.

Alexander faced his team and chewed his bottom lip indecisively. “Angelica,” he pointed a finger at said player, whose face lit up with excitement. His eyes scanned over all of his players and settled on an especially familiar one. “Aaron.”

Aaron looked around and pointed at himself as if to confirm he was the one Alexander was talking about.

“Yes, you. Get out there.” Alex’s hand gestured back to Angelica, who had already taken her position at the front of the court. Maybe Aaron and Angelica didn’t work very well against each other, but he was sure that together they could balance each other out.

A determined grin took over Aaron’s face as he joined Angelica on the court. He took a moment to high five her before positioning himself towards the back of the court.

The official, most likely some poor random referee that the activities director paid to broadcast the game, sat in an elevated chair outside the corner of the court.

“Alright.” His voice was relaxed and carefree. “Let’s get this over with.”

The small crowd chuckled with amusement.

 

-

 

Alexander eyed the scoreboard nervously. They had completed their first two sets, and luckily Aaron and Angelica had won theirs. A sentimental smile reached his face as he remembered their victory. Neither Aaron nor Angelica had ever disappointed him, and he didn’t think they ever would.

Unfortunately, the match’s second set hadn’t been so successful. Big Oak’s players were better than he originally thought. They must have gotten some new recruits. The opposing team took the win, but Alexander still had faith that his team would emerge victoriously. After all, they hadn’t pulled out their secret weapon yet.

Yes, their secret weapon was Alexander himself.

He wanted desperately to win this match, as he did with every tennis match he played. But he had already used Angelica in the first set, who normally would have been his first choice.

Facing his team once more, he let his hand roam over his face, and his nose scrunched in confusion. At this point, all he wanted to do was take the victory and go to bed.

He was sure he would regret his choice later, but this was mainly a last-ditch effort to win.

“Thomas,” Alexander tried not to let any emotion seep into his voice. He wanted Thomas to know that he didn’t _want_ to choose him. He needed to.

A wicked grin broke over Thomas’s face, his eyes sporting the same mischievousness. “Now we’re talking,” he drawled.

Alexander offered no response but simply gestured toward the court, where the other team was waiting patiently.

Thomas assumed his position in the front, and Alexander situated subtly himself in the back. This was where he did his best work. He knew he was quiet, but he was forceful. Alexander was sure he could take the other team by surprise. He looked down at his racket thoughtfully, excited for what would hopefully be a victory for Capitol Hill. When he finally looked back up, Thomas’s inquisitive eyes were on him. Thomas turned away quickly, too quickly, when their eyes made contact.

Thomas strolled to the center of the court, and Alexander observed him curiously as he and a member from Big Oak stood face to face at the net. The opposing team member flipped the coin, and to Alex’s dismay, flipped heads.

The server bounced the ball a couple times, then swiftly tossed it into the air and slammed it towards Thomas and Alex. Thomas was quick to return it, and sent the ball flying towards Big Oak, who missed the shot.

“Love, 15.” The umpire’s voice was now bored and lifeless.

Alexander, too, was feeling bored and lifeless. He never seemed to fully recover from his practice round with Thomas earlier. He watched Thomas’s graceful form, getting lost in his movements. He caught himself staring and quickly looked away. However, he was too late to notice the ball that whizzed straight past him.

“15, 15.” Alex peeked momentarily at the umpire.

Thomas was distracting him, at least that’s what he told himself. Alexander glanced back up at Thomas, who was staring at him confusedly.

He quickly ripped his eyes off Thomas and went to retrieve the ball, which he tossed back to Big Oak’s server.

 _Okay,_ he allowed himself to think for a moment. _That won’t happen again._

It didn’t happen again. Alex focused himself back on the match, not allowing any distractions.

Big Oak served once more, which Alexander returned with an outstanding amount of force. His arms short out right and left, hitting the ball head on every time. _Yes,_ Alexander was panting, but never stopped to take a break. _This is what I live for._

Big Oak was having a hard time keeping up with Thomas and Alex. Their double team struggled as the tennis ball was relentlessly sent back their way over and over again.

“15, 40,” the announcer droned. Double break point.

Once again, Big Oak served, but their efforts were cut short as Thomas shot the ball back rapidly.

“Yes!” Alex cried out happily as Big Oak’s team was unable to catch the ball. It was only one of many games in the set, but Alexander was happy that they had started out well.

“Hey,” Thomas nudged Alex on the shoulder. A light blush was spread over his face. _Probably from the exhaustion,_ Alexander thought to himself. “We work pretty well together.”

Alexander huffed, not wanting to acknowledge that he and someone he despised to his very core “worked pretty well together.” He opted not to respond.

By the tenth game of the set, Big Oak had won 6 games and Capitol Hill had won 4. They needed to win this last game in order to take the whole match.

Alexander cracked his knuckles and gripped his racket with uncertainty. Their chances of winning seemed slim, but he was determined to win.

It was Alex’s turn to serve. Strategically, he bounced the ball and then tossed it gently into the air, which he then hit forcefully.

It was executed perfectly, which scored 15 points for Alex and Thomas.

However, Alexander’s game took a sour turn as Thomas began stealing nearly every shot from him. A growl escaped his lips as Thomas jumped in front of him in order to hit the ball back.

Thomas wasn’t going to admit that the reason he began hogging the ball was that he was trying to impress Alex. Heck, he had been impressing himself until Alex’s voice reached his ears, silent enough for only him to hear.

“Thomas,” Alexander growled. “Get out of my way.”

“Oh, hush it, Alexander,” Thomas hissed in between shots. He inwardly cursed himself for being naïve. He should have known his plan to impress Alex would backfire.

Alex gritted his teeth in frustration. He chose to believe that Thomas was the reason they were losing points, though he knew internally that wasn’t true. His own frustrations were getting to him. Alex regretted choosing Thomas as his partner, but it was too late for regrets.

Alexander hadn’t expected Thomas to let up on the ball, but surprisingly, he did. Even so, It wasn’t enough for them to get the score back up. They kept losing points, despite their best efforts.

“15, 40. Match point.”

Alexander looked around nervously. Just one more unexpected miss and Alex’s team would lose the match. Right now, all Alexander wanted was a victory. Another object to fuel his huge ego.

He tossed the ball into the air a couple times, carefully considering his game plan. With all his resolve, he whipped the ball at their enemy team.

Big Oak retaliated, but he hadn’t lost hope yet.

Not until something knocked the wind out of him and forced him to the ground.

Alexander groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. His head throbbed with a dull thud as he lay on the cold surface of the tennis court. He grimaced and opened his eyes a sliver, only to find Thomas Jefferson hovering over him.

Alex’s eyes snapped open. With all the might he could muster, he shoved Thomas’s solid body off of him. He stood up clumsily and dusted himself off, ignoring the pounding in the back of his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Angelica walking towards him, most likely to see if he was okay. Once Angelica saw how furious he was, though, she walked back to her sisters as if she never saw anything. 

“Thomas!” Alex seethed with rage, and he knew deep down he was overreacting. “What the hell!” He vaguely heard the umpire announce the end of the game in the background, along with some disappointed noises from the crowd, but anger washed over all his senses.

“Alex, it was an accide–” Thomas began to defend himself.

“I don’t give a damn. You cost us the game.” Alexander knew fully well it was an accident. He hated himself for being so temperamental. Despite this, he was unable to stop himself from being livid.

Alexander stormed off to the locker room, leaving behind his team, who resided on the court. Thomas followed suit, quickening his pace as well. His legs were beginning to fail him, weak from all the running he had done during the match. He dragged his feet painfully through the grass that led to the sidewalks, which led into the school. Alexander had gotten very far ahead of him, and he broke into a loose jog. He felt pathetic, chasing after Alex like this.

But Thomas couldn’t just let him leave like that. He spotted Alex just as he was opening the door to the locker room. Thomas pulled the locker room door open forcefully as soon as he reached it, and saw Alexander pouting on one of the benches. Thomas rolled his eyes. As he approached Alex, his hands balled loosely into fists. He had become breathless from their game of cat and mouse.

“ _I_ cost us the game? In case you didn’t notice, _Alexander,_ ” Thomas practically spat his name. “It was me who was doing all the damn work!”  His arm swung out, and his hand pointed aimlessly to the right.

“You were doing all the work? I work my ass off for this damn team only to have the match _ruined_ because _you_ couldn’t be bothered to care enough!” Alexander was rambling at this point, trying to justify his anger. He was so lost in his frustration that he didn’t try to stop himself as he stood up and harshly shoved Thomas. A row of lockers behind Thomas caught him, and the sounds of a body colliding with metal filled the empty locker room. He winced as the steely handles of the lockers dug into his back.

It was around that moment that Thomas realized how truly angry Alexander was. He hadn’t realized the match was _this_ important to him. His eyes softened slightly and his voice lost its menace. “Alexander, I…” Unsure of himself, his sentence trailed off incompletely.

Meanwhile, Alex’s anger hadn’t subsided at all. “You what?” His voice kept its low and threatening tone.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas swallowed thickly as Alexander stalked even closer to him. “I-I didn’t realize–”

It was only one match lost. So why was Alexander so damn _angry?_ His self-control continued to fail him as he dug a finger into Thomas’s ribs, and Thomas was inwardly begging him not to come closer. “You didn’t realize…” Their uniformed chests were barely touching, and although Alexander was seven inches shorter, Thomas could feel his angry breath spread over his face.

Thomas made a point to look anywhere but Alex’s eyes during this whole ordeal. He had always dreamed of being this close to Alexander, but not like this. His breaths were heavy, too heavy, and his stomach filled with dread as he felt a hot blush take over his face. And to think he was good at hiding his feelings.

Unfortunately, Alex wasn’t as oblivious as Thomas had originally thought.

Alexander’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch and he quickly stepped back a couple feet. He was shocked to see that Thomas’s face had taken on a shade roughly the same color as a tomato, and his pupils were blown far too wide.

Like a candle being blown out, all of Alexander’s anger was suddenly gone. The flame reignited with embarrassment.

“I…” Now Alex was the one at a loss for words. He felt incredibly awkward.

Thomas cleared his throat. “Alexander…”

“I have to go,” Alexander refused to look Thomas straight in the face as he scrambled out of the locker room.

Thomas slumped against the lockers, allowing the iciness from the metal to seep through his thin shirt.

Thomas can’t quite pinpoint the moment he started falling for Alexander. No, actually, he could. On his first day of tennis practice at Capitol Hill. Maybe he was drawn to the man’s ambitious spirit, or maybe it was the way his ass looked in that uniform, but he knew immediately that he was fucked. He distinctly remembers the first time he saw him.

_“And that,” Charles Lee gestured towards a man of below average height with his dark brown hair stuffed into a bun. “Is Alexander Hamilton. He’s our team captain.”_

_Immediately, Thomas was interested. He had yet to speak with this “Alexander,” but already his presence seemed to fill up the entire courtyard._

Thomas sighed.

How did he let this happen?

 

-

 

After exchanging goodbyes with his team and grabbing his bags, Alexander raced home. He had too many things on his mind, but all he wanted to do was go to sleep.

The walk home from the school was exhausting, and it took all of Alexander’s strength not to collapse on the worn out pavement. His mind flurried with conflicting thoughts as he walked past Thomas Jefferson’s house, and he wanted nothing more than to push those thoughts away.

He couldn’t walk away from them that easily, though. Everything about the ordeal confused him. He had never seen Thomas so incredibly flustered.

He had _never_ considered that Thomas might be attracted to him. He conjured the image in his mind, for the _n_ _th_ time that night. Thomas, with a beet red face, panting, pupils roughly the size of a small planet–

The whole season, Alexander had viewed him as a rival, and until now he was sure Thomas felt the same. He laughed weakly at the thought, as all the suspicions he never had were confirmed.

 _I’m just overthinking things,_ Alexander thought. How could Thomas Jefferson, someone who he despised, someone who despised _him,_ have a crush on him? It didn’t seem real. He thought this to himself, yet all the evidence pointed otherwise.

Alexander shook his head as if he was trying to shake out the thoughts. This was not what he needed right now.

Once he reached his small house on the far end of the neighborhood, Alex reached into the pocket on the side of his black backpack to grab his house keys. He rummaged through the pocket, letting out a satisfied “Ha!” when he felt them. His key was nearly into the socket when the door pulled open to reveal his stepfather.

“Alexander,” George greeted him warmly and ushered his stepson inside. He closed the door behind them, and Alexander dropped his backpack and tennis bag onto the aging hardwood floor, but not before retrieving his phone from his backpack’s smallest pocket. He and George seated themselves across from each other at their slightly worn-out dining table.

“Dad,” Alexander was relieved to see such a familiar face. “You’re home early.”

Alexander’s father worked at a law firm deeper into the cities. It was one of the reasons they’d moved to New York, away from George’s home in Virginia.

“Yes, I just got home.” George looked around the room absentmindedly, then fixed his gaze back onto his stepson. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your game, Alex.” He placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “How did it go, though?”

A look of pain washed over Alex’s face, and his stepfather must have noticed as he responded almost immediately. “That bad?”

“We lost,” Alexander stated, offering no further explanation.

George sensed his son’s discomfort, and quickly proposed a solution. “What do you say, you go take a shower while I whip up some dinner?”

Alexander nodded gratefully. He truly loved his stepfather, the man who knew him better than anyone. Anyone… except for Alex’s mother. He grimaced at the memory.

Alexander was only 11 years old when his mother passed. He was born on a lonely island in the Caribbean, where he lived with his mother and father. However, Alexander can’t remember how old he was when his father abandoned him and his mother. He barely remembered anything about his father, but the memories he did have were unpleasant, to say the least. When his mother had married a man named George Washington a few years later, Alexander wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it. He felt happy for his mother, of course… he supposed it felt like a new beginning.

They quickly relocated themselves to George’s home in Virginia, where they lived happily. For around a year, that is. Both Alexander and George were devastated when Alex’s mother had caught a deadly illness. In two months time, she had died. Alexander felt lost without his mother, he remembers that much. He still feels lost without her. After her death, he holed himself in his room for weeks. George was there for him through it all.

Rarely does Alexander go a single day without thinking about his mother. By the time he was 14, they had moved to New York. Neither George nor Alexander knew what to expect out of the situation. It had been four years since then, though, and Alexander has found that having George is enough.

“Yes,” Alexander said in what he hoped was a grateful voice. “That would be nice.”

George nodded and stood up, and Alexander took that as his silent cue to go take a shower.

His house was a modest, simple home. Through the front door, the small kitchen was on the right, and the living room, equipped with an out-of-date but functional TV, was straight ahead. On the left was Alexander’s room, and on the right was George’s room, each had their own bathrooms. Alexander was thankful for that; he loved his stepfather, but the man took hours to get ready in the morning. He had no idea how. His stepfather had no hair.

Alexander stood under the hot water and let his thoughts consume him.

Once he had changed into his pajamas, which consisted an old pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, and dried his hair the best he could, he joined George in the kitchen. He had made some chicken stir fry, which Alexander gratefully accepted.

Alexander was thankful that his father allowed him to eat in silence. After today, all he wanted was some silence. He glanced over at the microwave’s digital clock, realizing he hadn’t checked the time in hours. 9:23. The tennis match had lasted around three and a half hours. 9:23, Alexander noted, isn’t even that late, but he was so exhausted that he wanted to go to bed as soon as possible.

He quickly finished his stir fry and carried his plate up to the sink.

“I’m going to bed,” he stated. Fatigue seeped into his voice. It coursed throughout his body in waves. The dull throb in the back of his head returned.

“Goodnight, Alex.” George sat at the table alone, eating his stir fry but keeping his gaze on Alexander.

Alex latched onto the doorframe to keep himself from toppling over. “I love you,” he disappeared into the darkness of his room.

“I love you too, son.”

Alexander didn’t even bother turning the lights on. Not wanting to make a lot of noise, for his stepfather’s sake and for his own, he closed the door as gently as possible. Within seconds he had collapsed onto his bed, barely pulling the covers over himself before passing out. He spared not a single moment for his thoughts.

He could deal with it tomorrow.

He vaguely felt someone pulling the covers over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love george washington
> 
> I tried to make it seem at least kind of close to an actual tennis match, so if u play tennis please tell me how it works I am stupid
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! chapter three should be up by the end of this week. I promise things will get much more interesting ;^)
> 
> comments are always appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander was never one to let a problem linger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is indulgent as fuck so enjoy

Thomas cracked his eyes open blearily and was met with a familiar darkness. His phone was playing an obnoxious tune, beckoning him to wake up. He searched blindly on his nightstand for his phone, desperate for the annoying song to cease. The light from his screen blinded him, and he could barely make out that the time was 6:45. Groaning, he shut off his alarm and rolled over.

His warm sheets lulled him momentarily back to sleep, but his slumber was cut short when his bedroom light was flipped on.

“Thomas,” his mother’s strict voice rang throughout the room. “Get up.”

Thomas offered only a groan in reply, to which his mother ignored. She stepped out of the room to leave but made no move to shut off the light.

“Hey–!” Thomas shot up to respond but was greeted with the sound of his door closing. “At least turn the lights off…” he grumbled, completing his sentence.

He figured as long as his lights were on, he might as well get up. He didn’t want to be late for school, anyway. As he sat up in his bed, he remembered the events of the previous night. Alexander confronting him. Alexander running away from him.

Great, Thomas thought to himself. As if he didn’t hate you enough.

He wished he had never developed feelings for Alexander. And after last night’s debacle, he wasn’t sure how he was going to face him again. However, one of the curses of high school tennis was practice every single day. He knew his parents wouldn’t allow him to skip out on it. They didn’t care how Thomas felt. 

Thomas felt anger bubble within him as he thought about his parents. He knew he was lucky. He had a wealthy family, who enrolled him in a nice private school.

It would have been much nicer if they had actually listened to him for once. 

Thomas knew his parents didn’t care about his well-being. He knew the only reason he was enrolled in that pretentious school was that his parents wanted to keep their reputation. That, and they had the money. Both of his parents had graduated from prestigious universities, and were known by their colleagues for raising “beautiful and gifted offspring.” All of his siblings before him had been perfect in his parents' eyes, little children of God. 

Thomas, however, was a different story. 

By the time Thomas was in 6th grade, they had shoved him into prep school. So when his parents had first received a call from his middle school detailing a fistfight he’d gotten into, they were less than satisfied with their son’s actions. Thomas promised it would never happen again, but it did. Again. And again. And so on. 

Unfortunately, Thomas’s deviance was not something his parents were willing to deal with. 

He seemed to constantly disappoint them. He had never heard a “Good job, son” or a “We’re proud of you” leave his parents’ mouths. It seemed they only saw him for his mistakes and had never considered his accomplishments. His scores were never high enough, his grades were always a little too low. Even as a senior in high school, they continued to chastise him about this. They were already disappointed enough when Thomas had come out to them as gay. 

Every so often he recalls the conversation in his mind.

_ Thomas fiddled with his hands nervously, awaiting his parents’ reaction. Shifting anxiously on the couch he was seated on, he glanced up at them.  _

_ “You’re confused,” his mother had said confidently, intent on coming to her son's conclusions for him.  _

_ “I’m not,” he hissed back, and he settled his fidgeting hands on his knees as he leaned forward. His parents were seated across from him in two pristine white chairs, staring back at him with the same intensity.  _

_ “Thomas,” his father said threateningly, placing a hand on Thomas’s mother’s forearm. “Don’t talk to your mother like that.” _

_ “You can’t decide these things for me! I’m gay, whether you like it or not.” Thomas leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. He’d had it with his parents’ denial.  _

_ “I don’t like it, Thomas, given the choice.” His father leaned back in his chair, mirroring his son’s movements. _

_ “And that’s all you have to say?” Thomas scoffed. He knew his parents would be disappointed. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised.  _

_ His father simply shook his head and stood up, and his mother followed his father out of the living room. Thomas stared after them bewilderedly.  _

It had been two years since they had that conversation, but Thomas still grimaced when he thought about it. They rarely spoke about it, but Thomas knew his parents never quite accepted it. Accepted him.

They most likely never would.

He quickly shook the memory from his head, instead focusing on the task at hand: Getting ready for school. His legs ached as he stepped out of bed, but he opted to ignore the soreness. He was always sore after a match. He should’ve been used to it by now.

Thomas was not looking forward to practicing tonight. He feared things would be awkward, and Alexander was next to unavoidable due to his captain status. 

He figured Alexander would never want to talk to him again. It might have been a brash assumption, but Thomas had learned to assume the worst. 

He sighed and walked into his en suite bathroom, not prepared for the sight of himself in the mirror. 

He had horrendous dark circles under his eyes, the aftermath from staying up too late. He hadn’t done it on purpose, but the idea of Alexander avoiding him presumably for the rest of his life haunted him until the earlier hours of the morning. It was sheer exhaustion that finally lured him to sleep, but he had only been able to catch a few hours. His hair stuck up at all angles, which was normal, but it seemed even more out of control than usual. He ran his fingers through his thick locks, succeeding slightly in keeping them under control. 

Thomas looked rough, but he felt even rougher. He groaned, already dreading the day ahead of him. 

He grabbed its toothbrush from its respected spot on his bathroom counter and squirted a generous amount of toothpaste onto the bristles. He stood there for a solid amount of time, simply staring at himself while brushing his teeth. He felt pathetic, moping over Alexander like this. Despite yesterday’s events, he couldn’t shake his feelings for the man. If anything, they had only grown stronger overnight. He longed for Alexander, and Alexander only.

Thomas scolded himself for acting like such a lovesick fool. He had only known this man for a little over a month, but that had been enough time for Thomas to fall head over heels. It didn’t help that he saw him nearly every day. Of course, instead of facing his feelings like a sane person, he taunted and poked at Alexander. 

Thomas’s gums became sore from the constant brushing. He rinsed his mouth out and did the same with his toothbrush, placing it back in its holder. He skipped the shower this morning, knowing he might never get out if he did. He had taken a shower last night, anyway.

Splashing water on his face didn’t help Thomas wake up at all. After turning off the bathroom light, he lugged himself sluggishly into his walk-in closet. He shed his plaid pajama pants and tossed them towards the hamper, missing it by a couple feet. Thomas made no effort to pick it up and instead turned back towards his clothes. 

Normally Thomas would put thought into his outfit for the day, but he was too dejected to care. Most private schools had school uniform policies, and Thomas felt blessed that his school hadn’t conformed to that. He threw on his oversized purple hoodie, and a pair of simple black jeans. He spotted his watch lying tucked into the corner of his closet, adjacent to a pair of partnerless socks.

“How did you get there?” He muttered to no one in particular. He pulled it up from the floor and slid it onto his left wrist. 

He stared at his full-length mirror for too long, not impressed with the person who stood before him. It was hard for him not to scrutinize every bit of his appearance. He was only ripped out of his thoughts when his stomach grumbled loudly. After guiding himself out of the closet, he took a moment to observe his surroundings. 

Thomas’s bedroom was nothing special. The walls were painted a dull beige, with simple wooden furniture. He prided himself in his downy bright purple comforter, though. The accent brought his room to life. He ran his fingers along the velvety fabric, thinking glumly about how cold his queen sized bed felt at night. 

Now wasn’t the time to wallow in his desolation, though. His stomach growled again, insisting that he go get breakfast. He traced over his morning routine, descending his house’s long staircase. He was met with his kitchen once he reached the bottom, where his parents were sitting at their oversized island table. They spoke in hushed voices, clearly not wanting anyone to hear what they were talking about. They stopped when they spotted Thomas at the bottom of the staircase, and both fixed their judging eyes on him. 

“Son,” Thomas’s father nodded curtly at him. His mother peered at him, not saying a word. They made no effort to show any joy in seeing him. There was none. 

Thomas opted not to respond to his father. There was no use partaking in a conversation that no one wanted to be a part of. He offered them only a brief glance as he walked past them, and advanced towards the refrigerator. 

Pulling open the doors of the fridge, he tried to act unaffected by his parents’ frigid gazes on him. After scouring the contents of the shelves, he settled on grabbing a blueberry bagel and the carton of milk. He made a point to eat sitting far away from his parents, not wanting to give them the time of day.

“You’re going to be late if you keep eating so damn slow.” His mother’s icy voice interrupted the silence.

Glancing at his watch, Thomas noted that the time was 7:27. He turned to his mother and gave her an unamused stare, shoulders slumped in an aloof posture. He didn’t want to admit that she was right, that he needed to leave soon or else he was going to be late. School started at 7:50, and it took 15 minutes to get to that side of town. 

Quickly, he shoved the rest of the bagel down his throat and placed his empty glass on the counter near the sink. He made for the front door, only stopping to pick up his backpack, tennis bag, and car keys. Within a couple of minutes, he was out the door and on his way to school.

 

-

 

Alexander sat impatiently at his desk. Microeconomics was normally his favorite class of the day, and he would listen avidly. But today, he found his mind drifting elsewhere. 

After Alexander had woken up today, he found that his conscience had cleared slightly. The events of the previous night were less befuddled, and he was able to clearly consider his options. Yesterday, he had wanted nothing to do with Thomas. But Alexander was never one to let a problem linger and figured it would be better to confront him. 

He still had no idea what he was going to say. He wasn’t so quick to forget everything Thomas had said to him previous to yesterday night, how he seemed to do everything in his power to get on Alex’s nerves. He couldn’t just let all of that go, but he was willing to at least speak to Thomas.

Alexander still bubbled with anger as he thought about the things Thomas had said and done to him. The constant teasing and prodding made him feel miserable sometimes, an emotion he wasn’t very good at handling. The way Thomas poked at him made him feel helpless– not that he would admit that to anyone. 

Considering all of this, Alexander was shocked to discover that someone who he thought despised him actually had feelings for him. 

Of course, there was a small chance that Alexander could be wrong. That he could be entirely misinterpreting this whole situation. As much as he may have wished that to be the case, Alexander wasn’t stupid. He knew what attraction looked like. 

That, and he was positive that he was never wrong. 

Alexander was the first to leave the room after the bell rang. He had begun to formulate a plan in his head and was anxious to get to the locker room. 

Due to his distant proximity, Thomas was always the last one to get to practice. Alexander decided he would use this to his advantage, so he would be able to speak to Thomas when the locker room was completely empty. Granted that, it was the farthest he’d gotten with the plan. 

He marched to the locker room with purpose, though he really wasn’t in a hurry. It would be at least 20 minutes before Thomas got to the school. 

Not surprisingly, Alexander was the first person in the locker room. He made use of this time alone, taking his time to change his clothes and apply an extra layer of deodorant. You can never be too safe. Alex snickered to himself. 

Within a few minutes, his teammates started filing through the door. The atmosphere of the room brightened and was livened by the sound of his teammates’ enthusiastic conversations.

“Rough game last night, huh?” Aaron emerged through the locker room door, immediately taking a seat next to Alex on the bench. 

“Yeah,” Alex snorted. “For some of us.” Aaron had done exceptionally well with Angelica, and although Alex was proud of him, his own subpar performance made him feel slightly spiteful. 

“Oh, Alex. You’ve got to learn to accept defeat sometimes,” Aaron mused. Alexander shook his head. That was probably something he was never going to learn. “And,” Aaron tacked on. “Don’t think I didn’t see you and Jefferson sneak into the locker room afterward.” Alex scoffed loudly as Aaron shot him a knowing wink.

“Please,” Alexander held out a hand as if to say  _ stop _ . “There was no sneaking involved. I shouldn’t even have to explain myself.” 

“No need.” A laugh burst from Aaron’s mouth as soon as the words left him. Alexander swatted his arm, which elicited another laugh. 

“Shut up,” was Alexander’s only response. He couldn’t think of anything clever to respond with. Surely, Aaron was joking.

“Well,” Aaron stood up and swapped out his casual clothing for his uniform. “I’ll leave you to it, Alexander,” were his last words before he strutted out of the locker room, tennis racket in hand. 

Alexander sighed and rolled his eyes. Aaron was a nice guy, but he could be a pain in the ass sometimes.

Speaking of asses, Thomas was scheduled to walk into the locker room any minute now. The rest of the team had left while he and Aaron were conversing, and now Aaron was gone, leaving only Alexander and his thoughts. 

He sat there for what seemed like a lifetime, though in reality, it was only about 10 minutes. Glancing around the room impatiently, he wondered if Thomas was even going to show up. He hadn’t decided to skip, had he? Thomas had never missed a single day of practice, so why today?

Suddenly, it was as if Alexander’s prayers were being answered. Thomas Jefferson walked through the door of the locker room, a look of pure exhaustion on his face. Alex wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone so in need of a break. 

Thomas hadn’t spotted him yet, too engrossed in whatever he was doing on his phone. Alexander watched him silently as he opened his locker, removed his shoes, and shoved them inside.

He’s never going to notice me if I just stand here, Alexander concluded.

Alexander revealed himself from behind the lockers, yet Thomas still hadn’t noticed him. He still had no idea what he was going to say, so might as well start it off simple. 

“Hey–” he began, but was cut off by a yelp.

“Ah!” Thomas yelled, visibly flinching. “Christ, Alexander, you scared me.” He appeared collected, but Alexander saw that he was avoiding eye contact. 

“Hah,” Alexander chuckled, but his laugh wasn’t quite genuine. An awkward silence dawned on the room, and Alexander suddenly felt the need to flee. He pushed that thought away, and slowly inched closer to Thomas, who refused to even look in his direction. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, trying to pick away something that wasn’t there. “Um,” Alex began. “How are you?”

Alexander wanted to smack himself. How are you? Really? He wished he had come better prepared for this.

It was after that statement that Thomas turned to Alexander and looked him in the eye. It was clear that he had gotten little sleep, and he looked absolutely dead inside. “Cut the shit, Alexander.”

“Right, sorry.” Normally Alex wouldn’t apologize to Thomas for anything, but this was a much different situation. “About yesterday…”

Thomas knew this conversation was coming. He wasn’t naive enough to think Alexander would simply let this go. “Yes?” He said inquisitively, not wanting to admit anything for himself. 

It looked like Alexander was going to have to do all the work. 

“Listen,” Alex took on a much more serious tone, which captured all of Thomas’s attention. “I’m not quite sure what this,” his hands gestured between himself and Thomas. “s, but… you can talk to me.”

There was a certain tension in the air that made it hard for either of them to relax. 

“I won’t be so quick to forget everything you’ve said to me. I still don’t understand why–” Alexander began speaking again but was cut off.

“I have to bring up the fact that you’re no better than me, Alexander,” Thomas said matter-of-factly. He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting expectantly for an answer. He drummed his fingers against his bicep, and Alex duly noted that Thomas was just as anxious as himself. 

Alexander quickly considered his options. He knew he was being brash, but… he figured it was worth a shot. Swallowing nervously, he scooted closer to Thomas, looking him straight in the eye. Without breaking eye contact, he dragged his fingers up Thomas’s forearm and rested his hand on his bicep. “But I’m willing to give this a try…” Alexander continued. His tone had come out slightly more seductive than he intended it to. 

Alexander had done some thinking that morning. Any feelings he could’ve had for Thomas were blocked out by hatred, but after repeatedly mulling it over in his mind, he figured that maybe Thomas could be worth a shot…  _ maybe _ . He refused to believe that he was just as bad as Thomas, but maybe this was just the sort of self-destructive pleasure he needed in his life. 

Thomas’s face flushed briskly, which rewarded Alex an odd feeling of satisfaction. Despite this, he began to pull his arm away. “I don’t need your pity, Alex.” 

Unaware of himself, Alex tightened his grip on Thomas’s arm. Thomas looked taken aback but stopped pulling his arm away.

“I’m not pitying you,” Alexander spoke slowly, cautiously. He inched even closer and ran his hand down Thomas’s bicep, admiring the lean muscles in his arm. Even so, his left arm draped awkwardly at his side. 

Thomas was no longer looking at Alex. His eyes were cast downward, a slightly pouty look on his face. His face sported a constant blush, which only made him look more vulnerable. Seeing Thomas like this felt awkwardly intimate.

The next thing Alexander did took even himself by surprise. “I’m not pitying you,” he repeated softly and brought his left hand to the side of Thomas’s face. Without giving him the chance to protest, Alexander quickly stood up on his toes and pressed his lips to Thomas’s. 

Immediately, Thomas tensed up against him but settled his hands cautiously on Alex’s hips. The fact he wasn’t pulling away prompted Alexander to move closer, closing any space that had remained between them. 

Alexander tilted his head to deepen the kiss, pressing Thomas into the lockers in the process. Thomas returned the kiss with the same amount of force as if it was something he had wanted for a while. And, to be fair, it was. 

Alex’s hands traveled to tangle into Thomas’s thick black hair. Taking it one step further, he traced his tongue on Thomas’s bottom lip. It was only when Alexander bit down on Thomas’s lip that he felt two large hands land on his chest and shove him away.

Stumbling back a couple feet, he looked up confusedly at Thomas. The other man was breathless, his arms wrapped around himself and his head turned to the side, staring down at the ground. Another pout had taken oven his bright red face. Alexander opened his mouth to question, but was cut off. 

“At least take me out to dinner first,” Thomas huffed. 

If things weren’t awkward before, it was about to get much worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was stupid as fuck sorry. it was a little shorter than usual so i'll make the next one longer to compensate
> 
> anyway, I'm going to florida this monday and I'm coming back on friday, but I'll try to work on the next chapter while I'm gone! Expect a new chapter within the next like.... 10 days. 
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this and have a lovely week :^)
> 
> comments and reviews are always appreciated!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In that moment, Alex had a feeling this tennis player was really into him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here you go. 10 days later, literally 11:59 pm
> 
> so here it is, chapter four!! I wrote literally NOTHING when I was in Florida, so I stayed up last night and typed up this entire chapter in one sitting. 
> 
> the rating has gone up to M... you will soon see why if you choose to continue. 
> 
> Enjoy!

If Thomas wanted a date, that’s exactly what Alexander was going to give him. After all, he was never one to back down from a challenge.

This wasn’t much of a “challenge,” per se, but Alex figured it was close enough.

It was a Friday night, and it had been a couple days since his encounter with Thomas in the locker room. They hadn’t said much to each other in those few days, but Alexander had been the one to break the silence.

“Hey.” He had approached Thomas after practice on Thursday. The locker room was empty, not a soul left to overhear their conversation.

“Alexander,” Thomas had replied cautiously. He seemed to be eyeing his crush’s every move.

“So,” Alexander cleared his throat awkwardly, not quite knowing how to go about the conversation. “Uh, date? Tomorrow? The diner?”

He wanted to slap himself. The proposal was blunt, unspecific, unplanned. Not exactly how he intended it to escape, but sometimes that’s how it goes.

“Uh, yeah,” Thomas responded, just as stiff as Alexander. His hand moved up reflexively to rub the back of his neck. “I’ll see you there. 6:00.”

The diner was a quaint little eatery near downtown, a popular date spot for attendants of Alex’s school. Albeit a 50s diner, it was a newer addition to the area. It had the whole package; checkered floor, bright red accents, and an impressive malt selection. Perfect for any first date.

Thomas darted off before Alexander had the chance to respond.

And here Alexander was, standing in front of his less-than-clean bathroom mirror, nervously assessing his choice of clothing. He supposed that Thomas had never seen him in anything other than his tennis whites, and first impressions definitely matter.

He had gone through several different outfits but realized how foolish he was being when he remembered they were meeting up at a diner. A new diner, but still just a diner. Laughing at himself, he shrugged off his button up shirt and opted for something much more casual. He found a green crew neck sweater towards the back of his closet, with the words Notre Dame printed light yellow across the front.

 _Where did I even get this?_ He questioned himself, unsure of the sweater’s origin. He figured George must have slipped it into his closet at one point. But his father didn’t even go to Notre Dame, so why did he have this?

Alexander pushed his curiosity aside and reassessed himself in the mirror. Ask him and he wouldn’t admit it, but he was definitely checking himself out. For someone who slept much less than the average human, he looked _good_. Genetics.

His hair was starting to get much too long for his liking, and it fell limply around his face. Shoulder length was comfortable, but hair down to his armpits was just pushing it. He was going to have to cut it soon but now was not the time. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he managed to push his hair into a rather nice looking messy bun. Paired with light wash jeans that were on the skinnier side, he was ready to head off into the world.

His stepfather wasn’t home at the moment, and as far as Alexander knew, he wouldn’t be home until much later that night. Duty calls.

Alex eyed the clock, which read 5:33. If he wanted to get to the diner on time, he needed to start walking now. It would take around 20 minutes for him to get there, and that was at the very least.

After slipping his phone, wallet, and house keys into his pockets, he hit the road. The 5 o’clock sky was looking very nice, he noted, fresh out of the confines of winter. What little snow was on the ground earlier in the year was completely gone, a fresh batch of flowers blooming in its wake.

It was only after Alexander had walked for what seemed like a lifetime, that he spotted the diner. It looked empty for a Friday night, but Alexander was thankful nonetheless. Less of a chance for him to run into someone he knew. Or even worse, someone on the tennis team. He didn't want to have to suffer through explaining the whole situation. How would someone even go about that?

Alexander surely had no idea how one would go about that, so he simply prayed he wouldn’t have to. What were the odds of him seeing someone he knew, anyway? Other than Thomas, of course.

Thomas. Alexander’s stomach twisted as he approached the diner, nervous for what awaited him once he stepped through the glass doors. He had been on his fair share of dates, but no date he’d ever been on could quite compare to this ordeal.

The cheery bells of the diner jingled when he opened the door, and all eyes turned in his direction. This was a rare situation where he didn’t want to have all the attention on him. He sighed as the curious heads turned in their original directions, leaving Alexander in peace. One head, towards the back of the diner, stared in his direction though. It was Thomas, who seemed to be waiting not-so-patiently for Alexander to arrive. There were two menus spread out in front of him.

“You’re late,” Thomas mused when Alexander reached the booth he was seated in. He tapped his watch, pushing Alexander to check the time.

Alexander quickly glanced at his phone and snorted. “6:02. Go cry about it.” He slid into the seat across from Thomas and appreciated how soft the new leather was. It really was a lovely little establishment.

“Maybe I will,” Thomas remarked. A smirk had crossed over his face, but it was devoid of any smugness. Alexander was shocked at how oddly peaceful the other man looked. He wore a purple and black letterman jacket over a golden yellow shirt, and a quick glance under the table revealed that he was wearing black skinny jeans. Yes, Thomas was looking rather nice tonight. Alexander took note of the silver earrings, little hoops, that he was sporting. “You look nice," Thomas stated, mirroring Alexander’s thoughts.

He didn’t want his face to heat up, yet it did. It’s not like he was wearing anything special, but Thomas’s compliment still got to him. “Uh, thank you.” Alexander temporarily forgot his manners before responding, “You look nice, too, Thomas.” It felt odd to say Thomas’s name in a way that wasn’t a threat. It was different.

Alexander dared say it felt nice.

He saw the way Thomas’s face flushed when he said his name, and it gave him a strange feeling of satisfaction.

“So,” Thomas continued, leaving Alexander’s compliment without thanks. Alexander didn't need to hear it to know it was appreciated, though. “How have you been?”

Alexander blinked at the abnormally bland question. Small talk was not his thing, and he doubted it ever would be. “Uh, fine.” He offered no further response.

He hated himself for this. It was supposed to be a date, he was even the one who offered it in the first place. It was supposed to be a date, yet here he was, staring awkwardly at his folded hands. He hadn’t been on a date in quite a while. Is this what they were like? Alex couldn’t remember.

Luckily, before it got too awkward, a waitress approached them to ask their order.

“What can I get you?” Her tone was far too cheery for the quiet atmosphere.

“I’ll have a chocolate malt,” Thomas was the first to answer.

As the waitress jotted Thomas’s order in her little notebook, Alexander momentarily panicked. He had been too busy thinking about how awkward he was being instead of deciding what he wanted to eat.

“Uh, same.” Alex didn’t put any thought into his order, but then again, anyone could enjoy a chocolate malt.

Thomas raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing. The waitress jotted down Alexander’s order and took off with an “I’ll be right back with those.”

“So, Alexander,” Thomas began. Alexander could see the way Thomas was eyeing his folded hands. “We haven’t talked in a little while.”

“Yeah, um, a few days,” was Alex’s weak response. He turned his head to the side, watching the waitress walk away. His eyes widened when he felt a larger hand picking up his, and let out a small gasp when he felt something warm press against the back of his hand.

He snapped his head back at Thomas, who had his lips pressed against his hand. He maintained eye contact, and Alexander could feel his face getting redder by the second.

In that moment, he had a feeling this tennis player was _really_ into him.

Alexander sat helplessly as Thomas shifted his fingers over his hand, ghosting his lips over each of his knuckles. Unable to take his hand away, he simply watched as Thomas appreciated his knuckles.

“Ha,” Alexander laughed humorlessly, slightly more confused than flattered. This earned him a puzzled glance from Thomas. “Never took you as the romantic type.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Alexander,” was Thomas’s response. And Alexander knew that was true; he had only ever seen the man in tennis practice. A moment like this felt so intimate, it was almost scary.

Alexander was curious. He supposed that was why he was allowing himself to do all of this, allowing himself to take Thomas Jefferson on a date. So he sat there, he let Thomas kiss his hand, he let Thomas run his thumb carefully over his skin. Away from the public eye, tucked away in their own corner of the diner, Alexander couldn’t help but notice how _different_ Thomas acted. A few days ago in the locker room, he had been awkward, indifferent. Away from any prying eyes, Alexander saw a much softer, more intimate side of the other man.

“Talk to me, Alexander,” Thomas murmured against his hand. Alexander always noticed the constant use of his name, it was nothing new to him. It was nothing new to him, yet hearing Thomas say his name in this context was frighteningly sensual.

He couldn’t help but admit that he was slightly confused. This was a first date, yet Thomas treated him like they were long-term lovers. The soft tone of voice Thomas used with him, the way he caressed his skin, it was far too loving for this type of situation. Despite this, he didn’t feel the need to complain.

…One could get used to this.

“About what?” Alexander replied, unsure of where to lead the conversation.

“Anything,” Thomas chuckled, lifting his lips from Alexander’s hand. Alex breathed a sigh of relief. It was starting to get a bit too distracting. “Tell me about yourself.”

It was such a cheesy first date line, Alex found himself snorting. “Well,” he watched his words, careful not to overshare. He had a problem with that sometimes. “I’m Alexander Hamilton.” He smiled to himself, knowing fully well that Thomas knew his name. That doesn't mean he couldn’t have a sense of humor. “I live not too far from here.” He couldn’t shake the feeling of how completely awkward this situation was, on a date with someone he hated just a few days ago. Everything was so surreal, Alex felt himself wondering if this was all just some weird dream. Or rather, considering the circumstances, a nightmare. “A couple miles. I live alone with my stepfather, George. I’ve been living in New York for about four years now.”

“Mm.” Thomas rested Alexander’s hand gently on the counter but continued playing with his fingers. “For starters, my name is Thomas Jefferson.” Alexander rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you know where I live, seeing as you walk past my house nearly every day on your way to school. I live alone with my parents, I have some siblings but they’re much older than me so we don’t really keep in touch. I’ve been living in New York for about,” he paused as if he was recollecting a memory. His eyes glanced momentarily to the left. “Eight months now.”

“Ah,” Alexander nodded, not super interested in Thomas’s home life. A new set of questions swam in his mind, eagerly seeking a way out.

The waitress reappeared with two chocolate malts, setting them down in front of the two men as she eyed their linked hands. “Anything else I can get you for now?” Her pleasant demeanor never seemed to falter.

“No thank you, I think we’re good for now.” Thomas’s tone was light, but the look he shot at the waitress was a glare that screamed _go away_. She nodded, racing away without another word.

“Thomas,” Alexander had conjured up a question, something much more interesting than the small talk they’d been indulging themselves in. “Thomas, how long have you…" Hesitation. "Liked me?”

“Oh, Christ, Alexander…” Thomas wasted little time summoning an answer. “Since I first laid eyes on you, I suppose.”

This man was just full of cliches.

Thomas had wanted him this whole time, yet he never once made the notion of showing it.

“Mm,” Alexander responded briefly, stealing a large sip from his salt. It was overwhelmingly sweet, much too chocolatey for his taste. Despite this, he kept sipping. Anything to keep him from having to respond. What was he even supposed to say to that? He had never considered liking Thomas until a few days ago. Thomas said nothing else, his previous words hanging silently in the air.

They sat in silence, the low chatter of the diner saturating the air. Thomas’s fingers brushed absentmindedly over Alexander’s, never breaking away.

It was when Alexander choked down half of his malt that Thomas finally broke the silence. “Hey,” he said softly, as if he was trying not to be overheard. He picked up Alex’s hand and laced their fingers together, his gaze never leaving them. His face burned bright red, a pretty shade against his skin. “Whaddya say we ditch this place?”

Alexander stared at Thomas’s empty glass, and he nodded precariously. “I couldn’t agree more.” It was the truth. The hollow atmosphere of the diner was starting to get unsettling, and Alexander was starting to get antsy, sitting there with nothing to discuss.

He watched as Thomas dropped a ten on the table, and made no move to complain. He knew Thomas was loaded, $10 wouldn’t make a dent in his bank account.

Alexander allowed himself to be pulled out of the seat, not saying a word as Thomas guided them to his black sports car. Once inside, he ran his fingers over the soft leather, which was notably softer than the leather that covered the diner booths.

“Where are we going?” Alexander asked softly, glancing to his left at Thomas.

While weighing his options, Thomas figured that taking the boy he liked home, where his parents lived, was plausibly not a good idea. “Is your dad home?” He asked inconspicuously.

“Um,” Alexander fiddled with his fingers. “No, he’s not, actually.”

Thomas nodded. “Tell me how to get to your house.”

 _Oh._ Alexander felt his palms get sweaty, he felt his heart rate pick up in time with every word that left Thomas's mouth. _This cannot be happening._

Despite his mind’s protests, he complied, “Okay.”

Thomas sped out of the parking lot and weaved through the streets of the city, listening carefully to the directions Alexander fed him.

After only getting lost once, multiple wrong turns, and Alexander nearly crying out of pure nervousness, they finally pulled up into his house’s weathered driveway.

“We’re here,” Alexander stated, as if it wasn’t obvious.

“That we are,” was Thomas’s only reply. He shut off his car and rushed over to the passenger side to open the door for Alexander.

 _Stupid southern gentleman,_ Alexander mused to himself.

He unlocked his house’s front door for him and Thomas and was greeted with the familiar ambiance of his home. After flipping on the lights, he realized how shabby his own little house must look compared to Thomas’s.

“It’s not much, but–” Alexander began to apologize was quickly cut off.

“Shh, Alexander, it’s fine.” Thomas’s tone was soothing, much too soothing.

Alexander’s tongue felt extremely heavy in his mouth. “So, uh, we’re here, now what?” He asked this, but Alexander had a feeling he knew what was coming.

His suspicions were confirmed when Thomas strode over to him, quickly pressing their lips together. Alexander let out a quiet yelp into Thomas's mouth, shock taking over his body.

This kiss was nothing like the one they had shared in the locker room a couple nights ago, void of emotion. Tonight, Thomas kissed him with purpose, passionate enough to take Alexander’s breath away.

Alexander wasn't sure why he didn’t push him away. Something sparked inside of him, something quiet telling him that maybe he wanted this just as much as Thomas did.

So, he didn’t stop. He didn’t push Thomas away.

He let himself be coaxed backward, allowing Thomas to press him completely against the wall. Thomas’s large hand held both of his wrists above his head, the other hand trailing lightly down his side. The way Thomas’s body moved against his felt like pure bliss, and Alexander couldn’t help but whisper a quiet moan at the feeling.

The sound didn't go unnoticed, as Thomas quickly moved from his lips to his jaw, then down his neck, biting lightly and sucking marks Alexander was sure he wouldn’t be able to cover.

Alexander was enjoying this much more than he wanted himself to. He panted at every touch, letting out a few whimpers as Thomas sucked on a particularly sensitive spot on his neck. He had no right to be so good at this.

Alexander frowned slightly as he wondered how he got to be so good at this, but quickly dropped that thought as Thomas rolled his hips slowly on his, drawing out a gasp from the smaller man.

The way Thomas ground against him made Alexander practically melt into his hands. His hips bucked involuntarily at the friction, a silent cry for more.

“Impatient, are we?” Thomas taunted, his voice laced with lust. The tone of his voice only made Alexander even more nervous, but it was too late to back down now. He didn’t want to back down.

In fact, this was the most fun Alexander had in a while.

Alexander shushed Thomas by pressing their mouths together, kissing sloppily at his open lips. His mind raced with unnecessary thoughts, like how he found it funny that someone else’s spit never tasted the same as your own. He pushed Thomas’s jacket off and slipped his careful fingers under the hem of his shirt, tugging at it. Thomas understood the notion and broke apart their mouths so he could yank off his shirt, and then removed Alexander’s.

The burn of Thomas’s skin against his was hot, searing, and it felt too good to be true. He pawed desperately at Thomas’s back, a failed attempt to get closer, seeing as there was no space left between them.

Thomas hoisted Alexander up, who immediately wrapped his legs around his waist. He carried Alexander carefully to the counter and set him down haphazardly, as if he was precious cargo. And, in Thomas’s eyes, he was.

"Thomas…" A whine escaped Alexander’s lips as Thomas palmed him through his jeans, his lips attached to Alex’s collarbones. He felt Thomas smirk against his skin, and breathed out an even louder moan when Thomas applied more pressure.

“You sound so nice, Alexander,” Thomas seemed to be enjoying this just as much as him, if not more. The way Thomas said his name in that sultry, silky voice of his in this context was utterly sinful, and only served to make Alexander more aroused.

In all honesty, Alexander felt quite embarrassed about how much he was enjoying this. He probably would have been downright ashamed if most of his emotions weren’t being drowned out by pleasure. Right now, the only thing on his mind was Thomas, and more specifically, getting Thomas into his bed.

“Thomas,” he panted, his fingers clenched tight in the taller man’s hair. He felt Thomas’s grip on his hips tighten in response to his name. To get a little revenge, Alexander pressed his thigh in between Thomas’s legs. Thomas jumped at the sudden pressure, and something akin to a half moan, half gasp left his lips. “Bedroom.”

Alexander got lost in Thomas’s movements, the way he trailed hot kisses down his skin, the way he tugged at his hips and ground against him. The sound of his own front door opening was barely enough to rip him out of his Jefferson-induced trance.

“Alexander?”

That was _not_ Thomas’s voice.

“Dad!” Alexander gasped with what little breath he had left, grabbing Thomas’s shoulders and pushing him away.

It must be awkward, seeing your own stepson balanced on your kitchen counter without a shirt on. Oh, and also a man you’ve never seen before sucking hickeys onto your son’s neck.

Alexander glanced back at Thomas, who had a look of pure horror on his face. “I’ll go,” was the only thing he managed to sputter before tugging on his discarded shirt and attempting to walk past George.

Key word: attempting.

George’s hand shot out and hit Thomas squarely in the chest, stopping the terrified man from going any further.

“Alexander,” George inquired casually, as if none of this was even happening. “Would you like to introduce me to your friend?”

“If it makes any difference, no,” Alexander began, but realized he would be better off just telling his stepfather the truth. “Uh, dad, this is Thomas.”

This moment, Alexander figured, was at least 10,000 times more awkward than his date earlier that night. Having regained his breath, he hopped off the counter and approached his father and his father's hostage.

“I’ll call you later,” he murmured to Thomas, resting his hand on his shoulder. He shot a quick look at his father, who reluctantly let Thomas leave.

Alexander was sure he’d never seen someone run so fast in his life.

“What was that about, Alexander?” His father’s tone wasn’t angry, no. His father was much more concerned rather than mad. Being protective was one of George's specialties, Alexander knew this. They had both had their share of hard times, leading George to want to always protect his stepson. Even when it came to potential boyfriends.

“I thought you’d be home later…” Alex dropped his head, the embarrassment of the situation finally starting to sink in.

“I’m home now,” George deadpanned. “I’m not upset, but… mind explaining?” The look on his stepfather’s face was one of pure worry.

“I… we went out on a date and we eventually decided to come back here. It wasn’t what I originally intended, and I thought you wouldn’t be home for a while but I got caught up in the moment–” Alexander hadn’t realized he was rambling until his stepfather cut him off.

“Shh, son, it’s fine,” George let out a small chuckle. “You’re in highschool, I don’t expect you to just not have sex–”

“Dad,” Alexander, still shirtless, covered his face, which was quickly turning a lovely shade of red. The only place he could be bothered to look was at Thomas’s letterman jacket, forgotten on his laminate floor. “Please. Stop.”

“Just make sure I won’t be home next time.”

Alexander wanted to die. He offered his father a small nod before fleeing to his room.

Once in his room, he collapsed onto his bed. As he sank into the mattress, the full weight of the situation began to sink in on him.

 _I was about to fuck Thomas Jefferson in my own home,_ was the first thing that went through his mind. Everything was happening so fast, too fast.

He wondered who he’d be able to look in the eye again first. Thomas or George?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, there it is! I hope you enjoyed! expect a new chapter by.. the 30th, probably.
> 
> What will happen next with our Thomas and Alex??? stay tuned to find out
> 
> As always, reviews are VERY appreciated!!


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